Your mother points to one of the men
You are betrothed?! What, wait, you didn't have a say in this! You
can barely move, but your mother gives you another shove and you
stumble forward. Trying to regain your footing, you quickly dash to
one of the warriors and put the pouch in his hands.
"I-wish-you-well-on-the-hunt." You mumble so fast it sounds
like one word, and then dash away.
She points to one of the warriors and says, "Go to Red Cloud, my
Swallow, and wish him well on the hunt. Go on, don't be shy!" She
pushes you forward with a little bag in your hands, a token gift of
some sort. "He is your betrothed after all."
